The oldest roommate I’ve had was 90 years old. Given that this is over three times the average age of all of my roommates, and only 10 years short of one hundred, I naturally round up to one hundred and apply it to any period that falls outside the realm of my limited comprehension of time.
I call it “Measuring in Marthas.”
For example, when I wonder things like “what 19th Century bricklayers would think of 21st Century men who carry weights around the gym for exercise,” I marvel at the realization that the 19th Century was only a little over a Martha ago, and how much has changed since then. In fact, what would Martha think of them? After all, she still carried her own groceries, while some of them have their groceries delivered- and then carry weights around the gym.
Speaking of centuries, the 18th Century was only a little over two Marthas ago, and in the 18th Century a human being on the island of Manhattan in the springtime would have been able to enjoy naturally green surroundings, instead of admiring the artificial green “beauty” of the Empire State Building from the vantage point of a concrete patio. And while Martha wasn’t able to enjoy the lush forests and green meadows with wild strawberries of the 18th Century either, they nonetheless were there only a little over one of her lifetimes before she was born, which in turn was only one of her lifetimes ago.
And so forth.
This is how I measure time.
As a society, we have come a long way since Martha was born. We have destroyed a lot, but we also have built a lot. In the wake of one world war we caused the stirrings for and then another but finally, if only for a short while, it seemed as if we would be okay. If we aren’t careful though, the good deeds of a century could be undone in much less than another hundred years, so take care. For no matter how far away things seem, they’re always closer than you think.